Firth

by Vaso

  If it had not been for Daniel's daily phone calls from the States her spirits might well have taken a dive. After the first call, which was adroitly fielded by an icily polite Max, he took the hint and rang her outside office hours. What it did to his own business schedule she had no idea, but, taking into account the time difference, she imagined that he must have interrupted quite a few late morning appointments and business lunches in order to reach her.

  'These calls must be costing you a fortune,' she protested halfheartedly to him when he had stayed talking for nearly an hour, chatting and teasing her about everything under the sun.

  'I've got a fortune, haven't I? Who's worrying?' Daniel replied. 'You're the first woman to tell me I'm extravagant when I'm spending money on her. Hey, did you get the roses?'

  Another enormous bunch of flowers had arrived two days after the first ones. They were running out of vases

  to put them all in. 'You spoil me, Daniel,' she said.

  'Absence makes the heart——'

  'Grow fonder of someone else,' she finished the tag for him.

  'It's not true. I can't wait to see you again. Save next Friday evening for me, will you?'

  She agreed and put the phone down, smiling a little to herself. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about Daniel yet. It was too new, too uncertain. Perhaps she'd find out more when she saw him again.

  'Not Daniel?' Jill asked with a knowing look, coming into the room at that point.

  'Mm. Persistent, isn't he?'

  'Could it come to anything serious?'

  'For him?'

  'For you.'

  'I'm not sure, Jill.'

  Try going out with someone else. You might get Daniel into a- better perspective.'

  'Yes, I think you're right. Would you like to conjure some men out of thin air for me?' she asked her sister.

  'You've never had any trouble in the past,' she replied dryly. 'Do your own hunting, Van.'

  'A party would be nice. I'll ask around and see if anyone I know is in town and feeling social.'

  But she didn't need to, as ,it happened. By a happy accident she bumped into a drama school friend she hadn't seen for years while she was out doing the Saturday shopping in Hampstead High Street and got invited to a party that the other girl was holding that evening.

  'I'm shopping for food right now,' Lydia told her. She was a bubbly blonde with a zany sense of humour and, as far as Vanessa remembered, a very real acting talent. 'And I'm in funds for once. I've got a small partin the latest Ayckbourn play that'll run for ever and I've had two or three television pieces come up lately. How about you?'

  Vanessa mentioned her one brief West End appearance and got ready sympathy. 'Darling, how awful for you! But something will come along soon. It's bound to.'

  'So they say, but nothing does.'

  'It will. Look, love, I must dash. The flat hasn't been cleaned for a thousand years and it'll take me the rest of the day to get it halfway to decent. I'm dying to catch up on all the news,, though. Come early tonight and then we can have a good talk. You can help me with the food too, if you don't mind.'

  'Of course not.' Vanessa noted down the address. 'It's only a stone's throw away from where I am. I'm surprised we haven't bumped into each other before now.'

  'Are you in digs?'

  'My sister's flat.'

  'Bring her too, if you like. The more the merrier. 'Bye!' Lydia was gone, swinging the two bags of groceries in her hands to the imminent peril of the passers by, before Vanessa could explain that Jill was away for the weekend.

  She found herself humming snatches of a current pop hit as she showered and got ready that evening. Lydia had been famous for her parties in drama school days. However cramped or unsuitable the surroundings had been her bright personality had ensured that everything went with a swing. Lydia's philosophy of life had been vastly different from her own even then, Vanessa reflected.

  'The way I see it, you've got to make the most of your chances,' she had told Vanessa many times, and she had always done exactly that, never averse to buttering up people she actively disliked in the faint hope

  that they might be persuaded to do something to help her.

  'But how can you?' the younger Vanessa had protested once after a party when she had seen her friend disappear into the bedroom with another of the guests, an influential casting director;-'

  'Quite easily, darling. I close my eyes and think about my career. I don't have any scruples about what I'm doing—they're for fools. It's a crowded profession and I'm levelling the odds in my favour, that's all. Of course, it makes it easier if they're good-looking!'

  'I can imagine.'

  But not all of them had been anything approaching good-looking. Lydia wouldn't have worried about Sam Galveston, Vanessa reflected bitterly. She would have come to some kind of amicable agreement with him and probably ended up with a nice little part in his latest series. She shuddered at the thought of the man. If Lydia was prepared to suffer that kind of mauling in order to further her career, she was welcome to it.

  She chose a fairly casual outfit, but one that suited her nonetheless, a dusky pink cotton skirt of a swirly Indian design, coupled with a matching blouse that was gathered at the neck with a collection of tiny bells that jangled attractively as she moved about. A silver bangle, borrowed from Jill's jewellery box, hung on her wrist and she wore strappy silver sandals, a replacement pair that she had bought for those she had lost so disastrously. Usually she had her hair up, but tonight some fancy caused her to leave it hanging straight past her shoulders in a heavy blue-black cloud that somehow accentuated the small-boned delicacy of her face. Her make-up differed from her normal standards too. She ringed her eyes with kohl, making them seem twice their actual size, and dusted her cheeks with a silvery powder that gave them an exotic sheen.

  She inspected the final picture critically. Definitely a bit of a contrast from the workaday Vanessa, she decided. And that was no bad thing. For once she was sick of her conventional image. After all, she was an actress, wasn't she? A bohemian creature who inhabited a world vastly different from the mass of nine-to-five workers with their grey clothes and grey, ordered lives. Vanessa pulled a face at herself in the mirror. Most of those office workers she was dismissing as sober and boring probably led more interesting lives than she did herself at the moment.

  She grabbed a silver evening purse, stuffed a handkerchief and her keys inside it, and, taking her coat, left the flat. The address Lydia had given her was only ten minutes walk away and it was pleasant on a mild night like this one. Somehow Hampstead never seemed like part of London, more a little village in its own right, bordered by the vast green spaces of the Heath. Vanessa could hear the night birds calling and then the sound of some predator, a fox perhaps, in the undergrowth as she walked along by the area that, in the daytime, was always filled with people enjoying themselves. Sometimes they flew kites round here on Sunday mornings, she remembered. She really must come up here for a brisk walk one weekend instead of lounging around the flat watching television.

  It was a basement flat down some steps and through some jungly garden and had an old-fashioned bell pull by the door which sounded harshly when Vanessa used it. Lydia appeared with a bright plastic apron round her waist.

  'Darling, you've come in the nick of time.' She ushered her across the doorstep and into a large, high-ceilinged living room that bore signs of a hasty clear-up that hadn't altogether succeeded. A pile of books and magazines sat drunkenly by the side of the shabby sofa and a

  collection of dirty coffee mugs was standing in the middle of the floor, obviously just rooted out from various corners of the room. Dust lay thickly on every available surface.

  'In time for what?' Vanessa asked, knowing all too well. So much for a cosy chat about old times. She should have remembered Lydia's capacity for heaping work on to the shoulders of her friends, willing or not.

  'The first people are expected in half an hour and look at the place
!' Lydia spread her hands out dramatically. She gave an engaging smile. 'I don't suppose you could help a bit, could you? I meant to do it, but I fell asleep this afternoon.'

  'We'd better buckle to, hadn't we?' There was no point arguing over it. 'How's the food going?'

  'I was just doing that. If ydu could do a bit of washing up or something . ..' The other girl's voice tailed off as she headed for the doorway that presumably led to the kitchen. Vanessa gathered up the coffee mugs and followed her resignedly.

  'How many days is it since you did anything in here?', she enquired as she rolled up her sleeves and set to work on a pile of dishes that spilled out of the sink and on to the draining board.

  'Last weekend, I think. And I cleaned the whole place two months ago. It's amazing how quickly the dust accumulates everywhere. Still, a quick flip around with the Hoover and a careful use of subdued lighting will solve that one.' Lydia was blithely unconcerned.

  A quarter of an hour later the picture had improved slightly. Piles of clean dishes lay on the kitchen table, the living room was barely presentable if one didn't look too closely and the two girls were busily filling bowls with salads to accompany the assortment of cold meats and quiches that Lydia had bought.

  The door bell rang. 'Damn! Someone's early. Itwould happen that way round—usually they're all hours late. Could you be an angel and get that, Vanessa?'

  Vanessa dropped what she was doing and obeyed. The arrivals were three men whom she didn't know, but introductions were rapidly made and they came in. After that a constant stream of people arrived. Clearly Lydia's reputation as a giver of parties was still as strong as ever. Vanessa found herself acting as unofficial doorkeeper while Lydia made the finishing touches to the food and the early arrivals amused themselves. Soon someone had the record-player blaring away, the lights were arranged dim and inviting, and the bottles of drink that were arriving with every visitor were being opened at the makeshift bar at one end of the room. It was beginning to- look considerably more like a successful party and Vanessa didn't doubt that things would go with a swing from now on.

  The gracious hostess emerged from the kitchen and greeted people with delighted squeals of recognition and loving embraces. Vanessa saw a few familiar faces, but the larger part of the guests was unknown to her. Not that it mattered. They all seemed a friendly bunch and, looking the way she did tonight, there was little danger that she would be left as a wallflower. Lydia's parties never seemed to suffer from a dearth of unattached men and she noticed with amusement that the women present were outnumbered by at least three to one.

  'Van darling!' Lydia was making signs at her from the other side of the room. 'Come and meet some of my friends. I'm getting overwhelmed in this crowd.'

  She smiled and was about to comply when the door bell rang again. 'Hang on, I won't be a second. I'll just get that.' She went out and opened it, a bright smile on her face that shattered when she saw who was waiting impatiently on the doorstep. 'Who invited you?' she

  asked rudely, too shaken to disguise her feelings.

  'Lydia,' Max said calmly.

  'You know Lydia? You never told me.'

  'Is there any reason I should have done?' A dark brow registered its owner's frowning disapproval of her impulsive remark. 'As far as I'm aware, I'm not obliged to supply my temporary secretaries with a complete list of my friends and acquaintances. Well, am I allowed in or is the grilling to continue all night?'

  Vanessa stood woodenly aside. 'Coats are to the left in the bedroom. The bar is in the living room and the food is——'

  'I think I'm just about capable of discovering these things for myself,' he cut her short irritably. 'You can leave me to my own devices.'

  'That will be a real pleasure,' she snapped, and stalked off to the kitchen without a backward look. It was bad enough suffering the man in office hours without having to put up with his presence when she was supposed to be enjoying herself. When she emerged from the other room with a plate of food that she didn't really feel like eating, Max was suffering Lydia's clinging embrace with every indication of pleasure.

  'Darling,' she cooed. 'So sweet of you to come!'

  Vanessa didn't hear his response. She didn't want to. She deliberately made her way over to the other end of the room and started a conversation with a young actor whom she had met briefly at some audition and had found reasonably sympathetic. She resisted the temptation to look round and see what Max was up to. So long as he kept out of her radius, that was fine, she told herself.

  Other people drifted over and joined them and Vanessa was soon surrounded by a laughing group, most of whom seemed to be men. Not that she was complaining. When someone asked her to dance, sheaccepted happily and after that had a succession of partners. After an energetic half hour, she was sitting perched on the end of the sofa idly watching the dancers while she waited for her escort of the moment to return with a drink for her, when a familiar figure loomed into view and eased himself down beside her.

  'All alone?' Max asked with a sardonic smile. 'How can that be?'

  'I have a partner. He's gone to get me a drink.'

  'And here it comes.' Max took the glass from the hand of the younger man, dismissed him with a brief word of thanks and offered it to her. 'What is this concoction?'

  'Straight orange, pure and simple,' she said coldly, resenting the way that he had muscled in on her and neatly cut out the opposition. ·

  'You don't need any alcohol to strengthen your reserve tonight? No Sam Galvestons present?'

  'No. Everything in the garden's lovely. Or was until a moment ago.'

  He ignored the implied insult. 'Do you want to dance?' he asked her.

  'Thanks for the kind invitation, but no, thanks.'

  'Why not? You've made every man in the room happy, or so it seems. Why turn me down?'

  'Do you really think I could make you happy?' she mocked him. 'I wasn't aware I possessed such powers.'

  'The age of miracles isn't quite past.'

  'I don't mix business and pleasure,' Vanessa told him.

  'Neither do I as a general rule.'

  'But you're prepared to make an exception in my case? That's very noble of you. But I suffer enough of you during the day. I don't see why I should have to put up with you when I'm trying to enjoy myself.'

  'Trying and succeeding, I'd say.'

  'Until you came along.'

  'You don't mean that and you know it, Vanessa.'

  He was right, of course. Where women were concerned Max was usually an accurate observer. She hadn't really been aware of any other man in the room since he arrived. The surface Vanessa had smiled and talked with apparent interest to any number of people and had made the right responses, but the inner Vanessa had been waiting on tenterhooks for just this conversation. Somehow she had known it would come and had half dreaded, half looked forward to it.

  'I haven't looked once in your direction since I opened the door to you,' she said in justification.

  'No, I'd noticed. But you wanted to, didn't you? And all that determined flirting with every man in the room was intended to tell me something, wasn't it?'

  'I come to parties to enjoy myself,' she said, dodging the question.

  'Well, let's stop arguing and do just that. Come on, Vanessa.' He was smiling at her persuasively, deliberately charming her. It was a technique that could never have failed him in his relationships with women, that slow, lingering look of appreciation coupled with the suggestion that, for the moment, no other person in the room mattered to him.

  He was a handsome devil, she thought irrelevantly, noting how, even in this dim fight, the blue of his shirt enhanced the healthy glow of his tanned skin. The tawny eyes were warm as they smiled down at her, compelling her to meet his gaze and sapping her strength to oppose him. She tried to resist the tug of attraction that drew her to him and failed. She let him grasp her hands and draw her to her feet. Almost before she knew it she was on the floor again, responding instinctively to th
e beat of the music.

  'There, that wasn't so bad. was it?' Max asked her wickedly as the record ended.

  She shook her head cautiously, scared of admitting how much she had enjoyed the experience. He was a natural dancer, moving lightly on his feet for such a big man and following the rhythm of the music automatically. Thank you. That was fun,' she murmured, and prepared to move away, back to a safe corner well away from him as a slow number started.

  He prevented her by the simple expedient of taking her hands and tugging her closer to him. She supposed, if she had any sense, she would have resisted him. Perhaps he would have let her go without making an issue of it, although she doubted it somehow. Max wasn't used to being denied what he wanted, she had discovered that much about him, if nothing else. But where he was concerned she had no sense at all. Reason didn't enter into whatever relationship had built up between them. With a sigh Vanessa relaxed in his arms, moulding herself comfortably against the hard contours of his body and abandoning herself to a kind of bliss as they swayed in time to the music.

  However much her conscious mind might resent the man, her body had no such inhibitions about him. Her physical senses flared into a vibrant, independent life at his touch and she was no longer capable of controlling the delight she felt when she was near him. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, twining her arms around him in shameless abandon and relishing the muscled strength of his broad back as he moved, pressing her against him. The sights and sounds of the party receded into the far distance. Nothing existed except the two of them moving in perfect unison.

  He held her lightly, but the touch of his hands burned her through the thin material of her blouse, making her achingly aware of him as she had never been before.